


All About You

by javajunkie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/javajunkie/pseuds/javajunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Felicity wakes up married to a stranger she thinks that things can't possibly get worse.  Then, a judge orders them to live as man and wife for six months before he will grant an annulment.  Things can get worse.  Much worse.  OLICITY AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

 

            Felicity woke up slowly, turning on her side as she groggily opened her eyes. It was bright in the room, streaks of sunlight flooding in from the partially open blinds, and she blinked uncomfortably, her eyes beginning to grow accustomed to the brightness. Her head pounded, and she tried to remember just how much she had to drink the night before. She remembered the tall Eiffel tower drink filled with some sugary concoction.  And then the bottles of champagne.  You can’t have a proper bachelorette party without champagne, especially when the bride-to-be is marrying your ex-boyfriend.  Champagne was more than needed.  It was essential.

It was after a few blinks that she realized she wasn’t in the hotel room she’d checked into with her friends the day before.  It was far too nice. The carpet was too plush, and her friends were mysteriously absent.  And the pair of shoes by the side of the bed were decidedly not female.

            Felicity froze, suddenly aware of the body beside her.  She turned on her back carefully and then tilted her head over to the side. Sure enough, there he was. Who _he_ exactly was still proved to be a bit murky, but as she studied his profile bits and pieces started to come back to her.  A blackjack table.   The bride-to-be, Penny, shamelessly flirting with the dealer.  And then a leather jacket, the sleeve brushing against her bare arm as its owner reached forward to buy into the game. 

            _“This is my bachelorette party,” Penny slurred, one hand resting heavily on Felicity’s shoulder as she leaned in. “And that means you all have to do what I say.”_

_“And what is it you want us to do?”  the dealer asked with a sly grin, dealing out the next hand._

_“Whoever wins this hand buys drinks all around,” Penny said excitedly.  “I’m thinking champagne.  Right, Felicity?  More champagne?”_

_Felicity nodded solemnly. “Indubitably.”_

_Leather-jacket laughed. “Indubitably?”_

_“Indubitably,” she repeated seriously.  When he laughed again she said, “What’s so funny?”_

_He shook his head, a grin pulling at his mouth.  “Nothing.”_

_A few minutes later, leather-jacket won the hand.  Penny looked at him expectantly and he said, “Don’t worry.  I know the rules.  Looks like I’m buying you ladies a drink.”_

            One bottle of champagne later she was making out with leather-jacket in an elevator, heading up to…his room?  That seemed logical, but she couldn’t help the feeling that she was missing something. She gingerly lifted the blanket, glancing under to see just what state she’d ended up in.  She dropped the blanket quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. Waking up in a bed led to the logical conclusion that something had happened, but she’d futilely harbored some hope that the particular something was rated PG. 

            It wasn’t.

            She clutched the blanket to her chest and propped herself up just a bit, looking around the room to survey just what exactly she’d gotten herself into. Clothes were strewn around the area immediate to the bed, and she saw half-eaten room service and champagne flutes littering the table.  Her eyes jumped back to the clothes, her white lace panties balled up beside one lone silver pump. She dragged a hand over her face, everything becoming very still when she felt the solid coolness of the ring against her cheek.  She drew her hand in front of her face, panic flooding her chest as she stared at what she was fairly certain was a wedding ring. 

            “What the…”

            She glanced over at him again, noticing the matching band on the fourth finger of his left hand.  A memory tickled the back of her mind, and as it came back to her she sat up fully, the blanket dropping down to her waist.  A quickie chapel a few hotels down. His arms sliding around her waist and her mouth messily meeting his, bodies pressed tightly as Drag Celine Dion serenaded them with an off-key rendition of _My Heart Will Go On._

            The bed shifted beside her and she heard a gravelly voice when she realized that she was naked from the waist up.  With a small yelp she grabbed the blanket and tucked it under her arms.

            “Good morning,” he said, yawning.

            “Good morning,” she all but squeaked.  He sat up and stretched, the blanket dropping to his waist.  Her gaze went to his abs, and the fine dusting of blonde hair that led down to –

            She squeezed her eyes shut, wiping at her eyes as she said in a tight voice, “We need to talk about last night…” she trailed off, unable to find his name in her memory.

            “Oliver,” he said with a sheepish grin.  “And…”

            “Felicity,” she said quickly.  “I’m Felicity. And you…you are Oliver.”

            He nodded.  “That’s me. What do you want to talk about?”

            The words got stuck in her throat, so she did the next best thing. She raised her left hand. Oliver’s casual glance over at her hand changed markedly when he noticed the ring on her finger. He looked down at his own hand immediately, groaning when he saw the matching band.

            “Shit. So, that happened.”

            “That happened,” she repeated.  “That’s all you have to say?  That happened? What, do you accidentally marry a girl every weekend or something?”

            “No, I don’t,” he said in a low voice.  “I’m just…processing.”

            “There isn’t much to process,” she answered heatedly, feeling the panic begin to get the best of her.  “We are married. You and me.  We didn’t even remember each other’s names a minute ago, and we’re _married_.”

            “Yeah, I got that,” he said, climbing out of bed.  She turned away at the last moment, but not before she got a nice view of his backside.  She heard him slip on his boxers, and then he was grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

            “You’re calling someone right now?” she asked in disbelief. “Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

            “Calm down,” Oliver said.  “I’m calling my lawyer.”

            She stared at him.  “You just have a lawyer on speed dial?”

            “He’s not on speed dial,” Oliver returned, as if the entire notion was ridiculous. She pulled the blanket higher up on her chest, beginning to fidget.  Oliver noticed her nerves and said, “Don’t worry, my lawyer will sort this out.”

            “You mean an annulment?” she asked.

            He nodded.  “He’ll fix this. Don’t worry.”

            Felicity tilted her head in acknowledgement and then began looking for her clothes. Her dress was in a heap next to the nightstand, and she climbed off the bed, taking the blanket with her, and picked up her dress.  She walked over to the bathroom, struggling a bit with dragging the cumbersome blanket along with her.

            “I won’t look,” Oliver said, smirking as he watched her try to dislodge the edge of the blanket from the clawed foot of the coffee table. She gave the blanket a good tug and it pulled itself free.

            “Thanks, but I think I’d feel more comfortable changing in the bathroom.”

            He shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”

            She walked into the bathroom and pulled the door closed.  Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror, a vision of sex hair and raccoon eyes.  She looked like someone who just slept with a stranger, and she didn’t view that as a compliment.  She dropped the blanket and slipped back into her dress.  It was a clingy navy number with silver thread running through the fabric that had been perfect for a nighttime romp, not so much for eight o’clock in the morning. 

            “Felicity!” Oliver called from outside. She opened the door and peaked her head out.  “Yeah?”

            “What’s your last name?”

            “Um, Smoak.”

            “Felicity Smoak,” Oliver said, smiling a bit.  “That’s a pretty good name.  Definitely worth keeping.”

            “I think so.”

            He returned to his call and she went back into the bathroom. She quickly washed her face, feeling a bit more like herself with the night’s war paint stripped from her face. She swished some water in her mouth, spit it in the sink, and then walked back out into the room. Oliver was still talking, although the conversation seemed to be at its end.

            “Thank you, Jack.  I owe you a beer. After all of this we’ll grab one, okay? Alright, thanks again. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

            He hung up and said, “Alright, it’s done.”

            “It’s done?”  Felicity stammered. “How is it done?”

            “Jack’s working up the annulment paperwork as we speak.  He said to meet him at the courthouse this afternoon at one o’clock.  We’ll go there. The judge will grant us our annulment. Done.”

            She looked at him dubiously.  “Just like that.”

            “It’s Las Vegas,” he said.  “This stuff happens all the time.”

            Felicity groaned, running her fingers through her hair.  This stuff happened all the time, according to him. But it didn’t happen to her. She was solid and rational. She didn’t go home with strangers or drunkenly marry them.  But, she knew the only way she could get through the bachelorette party was by being sufficiently drunk, and then watching Penny flirt with that blackjack dealer – and every other male in a close vicinity – unhinged something in her.

            “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Oliver said, walking over and placing his hands on her shoulders.  “We’ll get this annulled and then go our separate ways.  No harm no foul.”

            “This isn’t like me,” she said.  “I swear. I’m not usually like this.”

            “Like what?”

            She gestured vaguely to their surroundings.  “Like _this_. You could have been a serial killer.”

            He smirked.  “Well, that’s a cheery thought.”

            “I could have ended chopped up somewhere.  I know better than this.  But…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

            “But what?”

            “It’s nothing,” she said dismissively, figuring she’d shared enough with this guy already.  Bodily fluids and marital vows were one thing.  The warped story of this upcoming wedding was entirely different.

            “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like that,” he said. 

            She ignored him, spotting her purse over on the couch.  She went over and picked it up, pulling her phone out. There were twenty missed calls on it, and several dozen texts.  Before even listening she called her friend Lydia.

            “Thank God,” Lydia said by way of greeting.  “We thought you were dead or something.  You’re not dead, right?”

            “How would I be calling you if I was dead?”

            “Good point,” Lydia said.  “Are you okay? We were so worried about you. One minute you were there with that guy and then the next you weren’t.  We thought he kidnapped you or something.”

            “I was not kidnapped,” Felicity assured her.

            “Are you sure?  Because if you were kidnapped, you probably couldn’t say it.”

            “Again, not kidnapped,” Felicity said.  “I’m perfectly fine. Hungover, but that’s it.”

            “If you’re kidnapped, say the word blueberry,” Lydia said.

            “Still not kidnapped,” Felicity said.

            “So, you’re really fine?  It’s not like you to slip away like that.  Even with…you know…”

            “I know,” Felicity said, looking down at the wedding band on her finger. “But, really, I’m fine. How about I meet you guys at the hotel this afternoon?”

            “What are you doing now?”

            Felicity glanced over at Oliver.  “Oh, you know, just…sex.  Lots of sex.”

            He looked over at her with a smirk.

            “Oh my God, Felicity!”  Lydia breathed out. “I swear, this is like a new you! That guy was hot, so you go enjoy. I’ll talk to you this afternoon!”

            “Okay. Tell the others I’m sorry for scaring you guys.”  

            “I will.  Have fun with your boytoy.”

            Felicity could practically hear the eye waggle, and she rolled her eyes. “Bye Lydia.”

            She hung up and Oliver said, “Lots of sex, huh?”

            “Oh, shut up.”

            “So, I’m going to order us some breakfast.  I think we both could use it.  And while we’re waiting, you can elaborate on that ‘but’.”

            “You’re not going to drop that, are you?” she asked pointedly.

            “I’m arranging our annulment,” he said.  “Free of charge, might I add.  The least you can do is explain the ‘but.”

            He dialed room service and placed an order for some waffles, eggs, and bacon. Afterwards he sat down at the table and looked at her expectantly.

            “Fine,” she sighed, sitting down with him at the table.  “Do you remember how I was at a bachelorette party last night?”

            He nodded.  “Yeah.”

            “Well, the bride is marrying my ex-boyfriend,” Felicity said. “Who I dated for five years and thought _I_ was going to marry. But obviously that didn’t happen.”

            “Isn’t it against girl code or something to date someone’s ex?”

            She smirked.  “Girl code?”

            “I have a sister,” he said defensively.  “But, really, isn’t it?”

            “The only code Penny lives by is her own,” Felicity said.  “But, it’s fine.  Brian and I didn’t work for a lot of reasons.  We weren’t meant to be, and maybe they are.  Maybe that’s how it was always supposed to happen.”

            “That’s rough,” he said.  “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s fine.”

            He smiled a bit.  “Yeah, you keep saying that.”

            “It’s kind of funny,” Felicity said after a moment.  “I always thought I’d get married before her. I guess that sort of came true.”

            Oliver snorted.  “Silvering lining?”

            “It just might be.”

 

* * *

 

 

            A few hours later, bellies full from breakfast, Oliver and Felicity prepared to go down to the courthouse.  Oliver changed into a pair of slacks and a button up.  She looked down at her own dress, which seemed tinier than it was twenty minutes before, and asked, “Do you think this is appropriate for court?”

            “You might need your shoulders covered,” he said.  “I can lend you one of my suit jackets.  I have a few here.”

            “Okay.”

            He went over to the closet and pulled out a black suit jacket. It hung on her frame, but she liked that it hid most of her dress.  She knew she should probably have just gone back to her actual room and change there, but she couldn’t bring herself to face her friends before this was dealt with.

            “It looks like you were eaten by my suit jacket,” he said with a laugh.

            “It works,” she said.  “Are you ready?”

            He nodded.  “I already called the cab.”

            It took some time to get off the strip, but as soon as they were out of Las Vegas proper the traffic dissipated.  Felicity gazed out the window, thinking back to yesterday and where she was at this exact time.  She’d been curled up in her bed, going through old pictures of her and Brian.

            The cab pulled up to the courthouse, and Oliver paid the fare. When Felicity tried to pay her half he waved her hand away casually and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

            A short man in a pinstripe suit stood outside the front doors, and he perked up immediately when he saw Oliver.  Felicity assumed this was Oliver’s lawyer, and her assumption proved true when he said, “You guys are late.  Judge Macon likes to run a tight ship, schedule speaking.”

            “Traffic was bad,” Oliver said by way of apology.  “Do you have the paperwork for us to sign?”

            “Yes.”

            Jack rifled through his briefcase and pulled out a slip of paper. Two signature blocks were empty at the bottom, and Oliver and Felicity signed on their respective lines.

            “Alright. Now, this should go pretty quickly,” he said, talking as they made their way down the winding hallway to the courtroom. “Annulments are pretty standard here, as you can imagine.  Let me do the talking. You two just stand there looking very, very sorry for being so stupid.  Understood?”

            Felicity nodded, her mouth suddenly feeling dry.  “Understood.”

            They came to a halt outside of a courtroom, and Jack flashed her a smile before saying, “Showtime.”

            They walked into the courtroom, Felicity immediately feeling the cold air conditioning prickle her bare legs.  There was a man in uniform at the front, and Jack said, “Hi Brad. Can you tell Judge Macon that we’re here?”

            “Sure thing, Jack.”

            The man disappeared through a door at the back and Oliver, Felicity, and Jack sat down at the front bench.  A few minutes later the man reappeared, the judge in tow behind him.

            “Everyone rise for the honorable Judge Macon,” the man bellowed.

            “Hello Jack,” the judge said, settling in his chair.  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in my courtroom.”

            “I’ve been in front of Judge Beard lately,” Jack said.  “He isn’t nearly as fun as you, your honor.”

            Judge Macon smirked.  “I’d imagine not. What do you have for me today?”

            “Nothing too complicated, your honor.  My clients here have run into a bit of marital trouble.  Namely the entering of that marital status. They are here today for an annulment. I have the paperwork all ready for you, your honor.”

            Jack handed the paperwork over to Judge Macon, who read over it with a blank expression.  After a moment he said, “Mr. Queen, tell me, how did you and Ms. Smoak meet?”

            Jack immediately went, “Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak –“

            “No,” Judge Macon interrupted.  “I asked for Mr. Queen.”

            “I’m sorry, your honor,” Jack said quickly.  He looked over at Oliver and nodded for him to speak.

“We met at a casino, your honor.”

            “And when is it that you met?”

            Oliver paused for a moment before admitting, “Last night.”

            Judge Macon glanced over at Felicity.  “Is this true, Ms. Smoak?”

            “Yes. That is true.”

            “Your honor, neither Mr. Queen or Ms. Smoak had adequate capacity to enter into the marriage,” Jack began.  “Both were intoxicated.  We believe an annulment here is not only proper, but necessary.”

            “Do you?”  Judge Macon proposed.

            Jack, somewhat taken aback by Judge Macon’s question, sputtered, “Yes. Yes, we do.”

            “Well, I don’t,” he said.  “Marriage is not something to be entered into lightly.  It is a serious affair.”

            “We could not agree more, your honor,” Jack said.  “But, in this case –“

            “In this case we have two people who acted without any thought to the repercussions that would come from their actions,”  Judge Macon interrupted.  “Frankly, I have grown weary of spending my days playing referee between those who had one too many drinks.  All of these free passes we give out has eradicated responsibility.  People don’t think when they act, assuming we will grant them pardon. Well, not today.”

            “Your honor –“

            “Mr. Queen, did you consummate the marriage.”

            Oliver looked at Jack, who grudgingly told him, “Answer the question, Oliver.”

            Reluctantly Oliver said,  “Yes. We did.”

            “Then you have a valid legal marriage.”

            Jack sprung into action and quickly said, “Your honor, as I mentioned earlier, Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak lacked capacity to enter into the marriage. There was not a meeting of the minds. This is not a valid marriage.”

            “Six months,” Judge Macon said.

            “Excuse me, your honor?”  Jack stammered.

            “Remain married for six months, and then if you two are still desiring it, I will grant an annulment.  For those six months you are to live together as man and wife.”

            “Your honor, this is ludicrous.”

            “No, this is what happens when you act without thinking.  Too many young people like Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak come in here expecting me to clean up their messes.  It’s disrespectful to me.  It’s disrespectful to this court.”

            “Your honor –“

            “The annulment is denied,” Judge Macon said loudly.  “Return in six months for a reconsideration.”

            Jack sputtered for a moment before nodding.  He clutched his briefcase tightly and nodded his head toward the door for Oliver and Felicity to follow.  Felicity trudged behind him, still in shock. When they got outside Oliver immediately went, “What the hell was that?”

            “That was not what I was expecting,”  Jack said.

            “What does that mean, not what you expected?”

            “I don’t know what got into him.  He grants these every day.”

            “He was fed up,” Felicity murmured.  “We were the last straw that broke the camel’s back.”

            “So, what does this mean?”  Oliver demanded. “Jack, what does this mean?”

            His lawyer swallowed hard.  “It means you and Ms. Smoak are married for the foreseeable future.”


	2. Chapter Two

           Chapter Two

The first thing Felicity said after hearing that her and Oliver were married for the foreseeable future was, “This can’t be happening.”

            They were standing outside of the courthouse, a full fledged panic attack on the horizon, and she kept repeating that statement over and over again. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.

            She kept changing the emphasis in the statement.  First it was, _this_ can’t be happening. Then, this _can’t_ be happening.  And then, of course, the inevitable, I-am-about-to-vomit, _THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING_.

            She all about yelled that last one when Oliver took a hold of her shoulders and said, “Calm down.  You’re scaring the homeless people.”

            “Oh, am I scaring people?  I’m sorry,” she spat. “I just found out I’m married to someone I barely know.  And, oh, to make matters worse, I AM FORCED TO STAY MARRIED TO HIM.”

            “I’m not too thrilled about this either,” Oliver returned irritably. “And, for the record, in the realm of men you could have potentially ended up accidentally married to, I’m not that bad of a catch.”

            She groaned loudly.  “That is so not the point. Do you have a map with you? Let me show you how _not_ near the point you are!”   

            “Both of you, calm down,”  Jack the lawyer said, taking a hold of their arms and forcefully tugging them away from the courthouse doors where they had previously been having this very loud conversation. “Now, listen to me, this is not a death sentence.  You both will survive this.”

            “I can’t be married to him,” Felicity hissed, jabbing a finger toward Oliver, who looked positively affronted by the action.  “I have a life.  A very nice life that I would like to keep.  So, this can’t happen. Fix it.  Oliver said you would fix it, so…get fixing.”

            “There’s nothing else I can do,” Jack explained calmly.  “You were ordered to remain married for six months, and that is what we will do.  But, Judge Macon went a bit far on the dramatics in there.”

            “What do you mean?”  Oliver asked immediately.

            “Come on, let’s grab a milkshake,”  Jack said by way of answer, waving them away from the courthouse and toward his car.

            “Jack, what the hell.  I don’t want a milkshake right now.  I want to know what the hell we’re going to do.”

            “I know,” Jack returned slowly. “But, this conversation is not one to be had in front of the courthouse.  So, come on guys.  The sooner we get that milkshake, the sooner we get our solution.”

            Fifteen minutes later the unhappy pair and Jack were seated at a local diner, Jack happily slurping his milkshake as Oliver and Felicity watched him forlornly.

            “Jack, I swear to God if you do not say something right now I am firing you,” Oliver sighed.

            “Do you know what lawyers love?  Definitions.”

            “Okay,” Oliver said slowly.

            “We love creating them.  We love arguing over them. Ask any lawyer and they’ll tell you. Definitions are a thing of beauty.”

            “Jack,” Oliver said tightly. “What does this have to do with anything?”

“You will note that the judge said live as man and wife,” Jack began.  “But he did not specify what that means.  Living as man and wife can mean a lot of things.  It can be in the literal sense.  The conjugal sense.  Or, as I am advancing here in this diner, the fabricated sense.”

“The fabricated sense,” Felicity repeated.

“First of all, Judge Macon has no real way of forcing you two to live together,”  Jack said.  “The judiciary has many powers, but that is not one of them.”

“What about forcing us to stay married?” Felicity asked hopefully.

“That, unfortunately, he does,” Jack admitted. “But, he has no actual authority to make you two live together.  Therefore, all his ruling really does is order the ink to dry on your marriage certificate for six months.  You two can go about your separate lives, actively avoiding all thoughts of this day until six months roll around and you reconvene to get your nice and tidy annulment. “

“So, we don’t have to live together?” Felicity asked, beginning to feel the tight coiling of her stomach release. 

Jack shook his head. “Nope.  You two don’t even have to talk for the next six months if you don’t want to.  Just exchange information so you two can find each other in six months, and you’re good to go.”

Oliver grinned wide. “Jack, my man, I knew you wouldn’t let us down.”

“Sometimes a lawyer has to get creative,” Jack said with a shrug.  

They finished their milkshakes – Oliver and Felicity happily partaking now – and then Jack drove them back to the hotel.   The pair stood outside of the hotel for a moment, Felicity grasping the strap of her purse and thinking how odd it was that she was technically standing in front of her husband. They had exchanged numbers, promising not to contact each other unless absolutely necessary.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Felicity. “

She nodded a bit and said, “You too.”

He held out his hand and she took it, surprised by the jolt that ran up her arm.  When she looked up at him, she could see he felt it, too.

“Static,” she said sheepishly, slipping her hand from his.  “I’m always shocking myself on stuff.”

He chuckled.  “Enjoy the rest of your trip here.”

“Oh, I’m not on vacation,” she said quickly.  “I live here. Just outside the strip, actually.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.  What about you?”

“Born and raised,” he said, rocking a bit on his heels.  “So, maybe I’ll see you around?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, maybe.  Good bye, Oliver.”

He waved and she turned toward the hotel, thinking of her friends waiting for her inside.  They would have absolutely no idea just how much they’d missed in her absence.

 

* * *

 

 

            The next day Felicity returned to her normal life and she couldn’t have been more grateful.  She worked with the University of Nevada-Las Vegas IT department, a job that wasn’t particularly fulfilling but it paid well.  What it lacked in spice it made up for in personnel.  It was there that she met Lydia, who headed up the admissions department. Lydia was the exact opposite in her job. She brought a vivacity to admissions, and had singlehandedly brought a good portion of the school’s best and brightest into the fold with personality alone.  It was clear that she loved her job, and in it she thrived.

            Lydia and Felicity ate lunch at a nearby diner every afternoon.  It was a cheap affair, sandwiches coming out at not much more than four or five dollars.  They were palatable, though, and the place was close.  Felicity found as she grew older that sometimes the sheer convenience of a place won out over everything else.  Plus, they were regulars now.  The owner recognized them and regularly added free cookies or chips to their order. 

            Today it was cookies – and they were not the diner’s finest. 

            “I always feel bad throwing away free food,” Lydia said, glancing back at the register to make sure the owner was looking elsewhere, and then quickly slipping the half-eaten cookie into the napkin or disposal.

            “I think it’s warranted here.  I feel like they left out an ingredient.”

            “Or two,” Lydia intoned.  “I think we should suggest chips next time.  Some barbecue would have gone really good with this sandwich.”

            “We can’t suggest what we get for free,”  Felicity said with a grin.  “We get what they give us.”

            “That’s lame. So, have you talked to that hot guy from this weekend at all?”

            Felicity froze.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been brought up since the weekend, but she still stiffened every time Lydia or one of the others mentioned him.  There’d been a lot of joking at lunch about how she’d pulled a Hangover on them.

            “No, I haven’t,”  Felicity said. “I don’t really expect to. It was a one time thing.”

            “That’s a shame,”  Lydia said. “Because he was super hot. Like, you could not work and just have your face on things hot.”

            Felicity snorted.  “If you say so.”

            Lydia’s phone buzzed and she pulled it out, eyes going wide as she looked at whatever was on her screen.

            “What is it?” Felicity asked.

            Lydia didn’t answer for a while, reading whatever it was on her phone. When she finally looked up from her phone she showed Felicity the screen as she numbly said, “You’re on City Watch.”

            Felicity blanched, grabbing the phone and scanning the headline.  City Watch was one of Vegas’ more irritating blogs that chronicled the comings and goings of the Las Vegas elite.  Last she checked she didn’t rank nearly high enough to even be on City Watch’s radar. 

            “Felicity, please tell me you didn’t get married Saturday night,” Lydia said in a strange voice.  “Because that’s what the article said, and –“

            “Oh my God,” Felicity breathed out as she read further.  She’d figured that Oliver had some money based on him having a lawyer at his beck and call, but she never imagined that he owned one of the hottest nightclubs in Las Vegas.  Verdant was on nearly every hot spot list in Las Vegas, and after only a few months edged the other clubs out as the highest grossing.

            “You did,” Lydia breathed out, watching her friend read the post. “You did get married.”

            Felicity put the phone back on the table and slowly looked up.  “Yeah.  I sort of did.”

            “And? The picture is you outside of a courthouse, so I’m assuming you got it annulled?”

            “That would be the normal assumption,” she said in a low voice, “But no. We didn’t.  The judge wouldn’t grant it.”

            Lydia stared at her.  “What do you mean the judge wouldn’t grant it?”

            “He went on a power trip.  Basically said that he’s sick of fixing people’s drunken mistakes.  So, he won’t grant an annulment for six months.”

            “Are you fucking kidding me?”   Lydia hissed. “How can he do that?”

            Felicity shrugged.  “I don’t know. But he did.  Anyway, Oliver’s lawyer said that we can just go on living our lives and then petition the court for an annulment in six months. It really doesn’t affect anything.”

            “Um, except for the fact that you are _married_.”

            “Technically yes,” Felicity said, voicing the exact thing she’d been saying to herself since for the past twenty four hours.  “But, logistically…”

            “What does that even mean?”  Lydia said. “You’re married, Felicity. You, Felicity Smoak, are married. To a multi-millionaire, might I add. He owns Verdant? I so did not know that.”

            “I didn’t either,” Felicity said. 

            “I wonder if you get any of that when you annul,”  Lydia said thoughtfully.

            “I don’t want any of it,” Felicity said, squeezing her eyes shut.  “And, frankly, I don’t want to talk about this. So, can we not?”

            “Penny texted me that,” Lydia said, pointing at her phone.  “So, you know she’s going to want to talk about it. And Heather.  And Jen.  And, you know, everyone else.”

            “I know,” Felicity sighed.  “But can we just not talk about it now?”

            “Okay,” Lydia said after a moment.  “What are you going to tell everyone?”

            Felicity gave her a look.  “Is this your not talking about it?”

            “I’m sorry,” Lydia said automatically.  “It’s just…what if they ask me?  I don’t want what I say to not match what you say.”

            Felicity thought about this for a minute and then said, “I’m going to tell them it got annulled.”

            “So, you’re going to lie?”

            “It’s easier,” she sighed.  “I don’t want people constantly asking how my accidental marriage is going.  I’ll just tell them that it was annulled. Problem solved.”

            Lydia nodded. “Okay.  If they ask me, I will tell them that.  Actually, better than that, I will tell them to just talk to you. But if they press, I’ll say that.”

            Felicity smirked.  “I’m glad _you_ are so planned out on how you will handle this.”

            “I’m the best friend.  People will expect me to know things.  So, let’s think about this for a minute.  It’s not all bad. For starters, he’s hot. And he has boat loads of money. Oh!  We can probably get into Verdant now, no problems.”

            “We are not using this to get into Verdant.”

            “Why not? What’s the point of this marriage if we can’t use it for something?”

            “I don’t want to use it for anything,”  Felicity spelled out slowly.  “In fact, I don’t want it to exist at all.”

            Felicity’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her purse, groaning when she saw Oliver’s name flashing.

            “Is it your husband calling?”  Lydia asked glibly.

            Felicity narrowed her eyes and said, “You are not allowed to joke like that. At least not yet.”

            “Am I right, though?”  Lydia asked.

            After a moment of hesitation she said, “Yes,” and then answered the phone.

            “Hi Oliver.”

            “From you tone I’m assuming you’ve seen that we’ve made some news?” he asked. She could hear the disgruntlement in his voice.

            “Yes, I have.”

            “We need to talk,” he said.  “Are you free now?”

            “I’m at lunch, but I have to head back to work soon,” Felicity said. “How about we meet after I finish up work.  Around six o’clock?”

            “That works,” he said.  “How about Biaggi’s. We can get dinner.”

            She wanted to say no, but instead she heard her voice saying that was fine, and then he was telling her that he would see her there at six.  She hung up, feeling very much like she had set up a date with her accidental husband.

            “Biaggie’s, huh?”  Lydia said. “That sounds romantic.”

            Felicity shoved her phone back into her purse and said, “Don’t start.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Six hours later Felicity stood in the foyer of Biaggi’s, waiting for Oliver. She was a bit early, and she studied the framed pictures on the wall.  It was a collection of celebrities who had eaten at the restaurant, and they posed with a variety of restaurant staff.  Barbra Streisand was in one, and Felicity quickly snapped a photo of it with her phone for her mom.  She was examining a photo of what looked like a chef and Frank Sinatra when she heard her name.

            He looked just like she remembered, but maybe even a little better.  He was wearing a suit, the dress shirt open at the neck. She had a sudden memory of her tongue dragging along his skin, and she blinked rapidly to cover the sudden heat in her cheeks.

            “Thank you for meeting me,” he said, moving in for a hug that she stepped away from quickly.

            “You’re welcome,” she said crisply.  “We should probably be seated now.”

            She stepped away from him, cursing herself for having so many memories of their night resurface at such an inopportune time.  Just as she’d stepped away she’d had a vivid memory of his teeth grazing her breast. She barely remembered the night. But apparently that was changing.

            She gave their names to the hostess and then they were taken to their table. It was in a secluded part of the restaurant, and when they sat down she was almost certain he’d asked for it.

            “So, what do we need to talk about?” she asked, not leaving time for pleasantries. “Besides the obvious.”

            “I should have known we would have ended up on some website,” he said. “Hazard of the job.”

            “Yes, your job,” she said slowly.  “It’s funny. You never mentioned that you’re a multi-millionaire.”

            He grinned a bit and returned, “You never asked.”

            She conceded with a breath of a smile and then grabbed a water goblet, taking a hearty gulp. She set it back down and said, “While I would have preferred my face wasn’t splashed on every gossip site, it’s okay. But, I should tell you that I’m telling everyone that we got it annulled.  It’s just easier.”

            “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” he said. “Things have gotten complicated.”

            “More complicated than how things currently are?” she asked in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you married another girl last night.”

            He laughed humorlessly.  “No, but that’s not it.  I’m currently in negotiations to open a club at The Cromwell.  There are several people in the running, but I have been told that I am a front runner.”

            “Okay,” Felicity said slowly, not understanding how she fit into this story.  “Congratulations?”

            “The man who makes the decision is Peter Frolich,” Oliver continued. “And Peter is a conservative businessman.”

            “I still don’t see how this involves me,” Felicity said. 

            “I’m afraid that a drunken wedding will make him question my judgment,” Oliver said. “It will make him question my decision making, and whether or not I can make rational choices. I can’t have that doubt. Not now.”

            It didn’t take much work to see what Oliver was hedging at and she quickly said, “Isn’t the fact that you have a successful club enough to show your business acumen? I mean, Verdant is crazy popular. I’ve been trying to get in there for months.”

            “Business acumen is not enough,” Oliver said.  “I know Peter, and he will take what happened with us as a sign that I lack the judgment to run a club in his hotel.  That’s why I need your help.”

            “No,” she said immediately, shaking her head.  “Whatever you’re thinking right now, stop it.  Because it’s not happening.  Not even a little.”

            “Come on, we’re already married,” he said, leaning forward.  “All we’d have to do is spin a minor story. Tell the press that we weren’t drunk. Yes, it was impulsive, but _love_ is impulsive. No man or woman is immune to it. After six months we end the marriage, just like we’ve already planned.  I’ll have the deal by then.”

            “You’re crazy if you think I’m doing any of that,” she said. 

            “It wouldn’t all be for me, either,” he continued.  “You’d benefit, too.  I’ll go with you to that wedding.  You’re still in love with that Brian guy, and we both know it.”

            “I am not,” she snapped.

            “Yes, you are. We spent five minutes talking about him and I already know that.  Don’t you think everyone else does, too?”

            “Stop,” she said, her heart beating madly.

            “Everyone at that wedding will be looking at you and thinking about how you are the one who probably should have married him, but isn’t.  He might be thinking that, too, but it’s too late now to go back.”

            “You son of a bitch,” she breathed out, feeling tears prick at her eyes.

            “What better revenge against all of them than to show up with someone new,” he said emphatically.  “Show up with someone that for all appearances you are absolutely in love with. So in love, in fact, that you two eloped.  You couldn’t wait like Brian and his second-rate bride.”

            His words struck her as being all too true.  She was dreading the wedding.  Dreading the pitying looks and having to watch Penny marry the man that she herself had declared only one year prior she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But then life happened, and everything was ruined.  Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to.

            She planted her hands on the table and leaned forward.  “I’m leaving.  Don’t call me again.”

            She had to give him credit for not saying anything as she stormed away from the table. He’d made his pitch and took her rejection in stride.  She could see why he was such a good businessman.  She was back in the restaurant’s foyer with the wall of celebrity photos when her phone buzzed.  She pulled it out of her purse and saw there was a message from Penny.  She swiped into the message and felt her chest clench tightly when she saw the photo.  Penny was holding a bouquet of roses at her chest with Brian behind her, his lips pressed against her cheek.  Below it was the text – _So happy he is mine._

            A second later the phone buzzed again.

            _Sorry, Felicity, that was meant for Jen! My bad!_

            Felicity felt such hate rise in her that she nearly shook with the sheer force of it. That wasn’t an accidental send. She knew exactly what Penny was doing. She was dangling her happiness in Felicity’s face, just like she’d done ever since her and Brian started dating. For months Felicity had been telling herself – and everyone else – that it was fine.  It was fine Penny was dating Brian.  It was fine she was marrying him.  Felicity was over him.  They didn’t work out for a reason.  But it wasn’t fine.  She wasn’t over him. None of this was okay, and suddenly she found herself stalking back to Oliver’s table.  He looked up in surprise and said, “Felicity?”

            “I’ll do it.”


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

            “You guys are pretending to be happy, in-love newlyweds?  Well, this is going to blow up spectacularly.”

            Felicity frowned, looking up from her freshly polished toenails and saying,  “You know, as my best friend I expected a bit more support from you.”

            Lydia finished painting her big toe a bright pink and then screwed the top back onto the nail polish. “I’m being realistic. Which is better than being supportive. Besides, didn’t you already tell people you got it annulled?”

            “Not yet,” Felicity said. “Hey, hand me the top coat.”

            Lydia grabbed the clear polish and handed it over to Felicity. 

            “It’ll only be for show, anyway,” Felicity continued, unscrewing the nail polish and then beginning to put the last few coats on her nails.  “We still will live apart.  We will only meet up for public events.  He’ll go to the wedding from hell with me.  I’ll show up for some dinners and charity events.  Then, in six months time we’ll have one explosive fight in public and then announce our separation a few days later.  We have it all figured out.”

            Lydia snorted. “You sure do.  But, you do realize that you will have to act like a loving married couple at all of these public events, right?  And you won’t have an Eiffel Tower filled with vodka to help with that.”

            Felicity looked up and said, “You’re forgetting that I’m a veteran actress.”

            “A veteran actress?”

            “When I was in high school I was in _The Diary of Anne Frank_.”

            Lydia looked at Felicity’s blonde hair and asked, “As a Nazi?”

            Felicity gave her a look. “No.  I played Anne Frank’s sister.”  Noting Lydia’s continued confusion, Felicity pointed at her head and said, “This is dyed.”

            “You’re shitting me,” Lydia said.  “I had no idea all these years.  It looks very natural. That’s impressive.”

            “Thank you. Regular touch-ups. It’s the secret to a flawless dye job. Anyway, I _also_ was cast in the school musical every year I was in high school. I should have gotten the lead senior year, too, but that’s a story for another time, and –“

            “You’re rambling,” Lydia said.

            “I was getting to the point,” Felicity said.  ‘The point being that the public stuff will be easy.  I’ll just laugh at his jokes.  Touch his arm from time to time.  Smile a lot.”

            Lydia shook her head. “It’s like you’re getting your fake love cues from an Amanda Bynes movie.”

            “We’ll be fine,” Felicity finished with a curt nod, closing up the nail polish and placing it on the ground. “Also, I do a fantastic pedicure. Look at this.  Can you believe some people pay twenty dollars for this?”

            “Ridiculous,” Lydia agreed, admiring her own handiwork.  “We do have remarkably steady hands.  I always thought I should have been a surgeon, you know.”

            Felicity smirked. “Right, because steady hands are all you need.”

            “They’re the most important part!  You could be a genius, but if your hand shakes you’re about to kill someone.”

            Felicity laughed. “Fair enough.”

            “But, really, just be careful with this whole pretending with Mr. Money Bags thing.”

            “Is that what you’re going to call him for the whole six months?” Felicity deadpanned.

            “Of course I am,” Lydia answered reasonably.  “It’s unlikely I will ever meet someone again who so perfectly fits that title. But, be careful. I know you think it’d be the worst thing going to this wedding alone, but it’ll be even worse if they find out you and Money Bags are faking it.  So just, really think this through.”

            “I have,” Felicity said, although arguably that thinking had been a whole three minutes after she’d gotten Penny’s text.  But, that was enough. She knew almost everyone would be looking at her at the wedding, see how she was looking and how she was handling everything.  With Oliver with her, she had a fighting chance that the attention would shift. Without him, it was hopeless.

            “Have you?” Lydia pressed. “Because one moment you were going with saying it was annulled and then this farce suddenly happened.”

            “I’ve thought it through,” Felicity returned emphatically.  “And it’s what I’m doing.  So just…be supportive or don’t bring it up, okay?”

            Lydia paused for a moment and then nodded.  “Okay.”

            “Okay to what?” Felicity asked.

            Lydia pulled her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.  “I haven’t decided yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

            It had been Oliver’s dream to open a nightclub on the strip and when his friend Tommy Merlyn said he’d go in with him to open one, he’d jumped at the opportunity. What could be better than starting a club with his best friend?  They worked well together and he knew Tommy wouldn’t screw him out of money or flake. It had been a dream venture until it wasn’t. 

            The accident happened when Tommy was on his way to Verdant to oversee a shipment of liquor. It was an atypically windy day in Vegas. The dry heat cut through skin, along with the bits of debris and trash caught up in the sandy gusts. Tommy was just merging off of the expressway when a semi-truck going the wrong way on the ramp hit him head on. They found out later the truck driver was drunk and high on cocaine.  He got away with a few broken bones.  Tommy was paralyzed from the waist down.

            When he came to he couldn’t move anything under his neck, but as he recovered and moved to a rehab center he slowly began to regain movement above his waist. The doctors encouraged the progress, but warned him that there was a limit.  He worked tirelessly learning simple things, like how to grasp a cup or a pen. It was as if his muscles had forgotten how to work.

            “It’s bullshit,” Tommy would always tell Oliver when he visited.  “But I have to do it.”

            Oliver visited him every day after work, sometimes stopping in for only a few minutes, other times a few hours.  While him and Tommy never discussed it, they both knew that it was Oliver who was supposed to oversee the shipment that morning.  It had been his turn, but he’d gone out the night before and had a splitting headache and a girl in his bed, so he’d called Tommy.  It wasn’t something Oliver actively thought about – he couldn’t – but he went to the nursing home every day and sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night, shaking all over and unable to stop.

            “How come I didn’t know you were getting married,”  Tommy asked, showing Oliver the large picture of him and Felicity outside of the courthouse with Jack.  They’d managed to snap a picture where neither him or Felicity looked outraged.  That was quite the feat, all things considered.

            “To be honest, I didn’t know,” Oliver said with a wry grin.

            “You lucky son of a bitch. Only you would accidentally get married and end up with someone who looks like her.  Remember mine back in ’09?  I don’t know what I was thinking.”

            “I think you weren’t. That’s the whole point.”

            “So, I’m guessing you got in annulled?”  Tommy said. He put the paper back on his lap and tried to turn the page.  His fingers couldn’t work the thin paper and Oliver reached over, helping him turn the page.

            “No, actually, we didn’t.”

            Tommy stared at him. “Well, this better be a damn good story.”

            Oliver explained the whole situation with the judge and then the development with his potential deal with The Cromwell.

            “He is pretty straight laced,” Tommy noted about The Cromwell developer.  “But, come on, you can’t seriously be considering this whole fake marriage thing.”

            “It’s not fake. We’re actually married.”

            “Yeah, but you just met her. I can’t believe she agreed to it. All for a wedding date? There are services for that.”

            Oliver smirked. “She’s not really the escort type.”

            “How do you know? You’ve known her all of five minutes.”

            Oliver picked up the newspaper from Tommy and read through the article.  There were two quotes from him that he was fairly certain he never said, as well as one from Felicity that he couldn’t imagine her saying in any circumstance.

            “Journalism at its finest,” he quipped drily, folding the newspaper up and putting it to the side. “So, how was your physical therapy today?”

            “Well, I squeezed the hell out of the stress ball,” Tommy said glibly.  Oliver knew the therapists had him do it daily to strengthen his hands.  “Nurse Jane tried to not be impressed, but I could tell.”

            “How could she not be?” Oliver returned.

            Tommy smiled, but Oliver saw it falter slightly.  He knew that Tommy kept hoping that he would regain some movement in his legs. Presently, though, he couldn’t do more than hope. 

            “You’ll get there,” Oliver said softly.

            “I know,” Tommy said, putting on the brave face he’d worn since him and Oliver were kids. It was a stiff lip groomed from many years of an absentee mother and overbearing father.  No one knew just how well it would serve him. “Anyway, I want to meet your new wife. Maybe steal her from you if there’s enough time.”

            Oliver laughed. “I think you’ll like her.”

            “Bring her over here one day. I’ll make my determination then.”

            “Okay then. I’ll tell her that you’re the harshest critic yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Oliver’s phone was filled with messages by the time he left the rehab center.  No less than three calls were from his mother alone, demanding that he visit her and his father and explain how he had suddenly become married. Two from Thea. One from his friend John Diggle, who made the surprising move of asking no questions and merely offering congratulations.          

            Oliver went straight to his parents’ house, knowing that this conversation was one better to have earlier rather than later.  When he walked in Thea, who was home from college for the summer, told him their mother was on her second gin and tonic.  That didn’t bode well.

            “What could you possibly have been thinking?”  Moira asked pointedly. “Getting married on a whim like that? You don’t do that. _We_ don’t do that.”

            “Please, spare me from the old money must act like old money speech,” Oliver said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve heard it enough for a life time. I got married because I wanted to.”

            “Also because you were probably drunk out of your mind,” Thea chimed in.

            “You’re not helping,” Oliver returned with a tight grin.

            “I just don’t understand why you would do something like this,”  Moira continued, “Why you would do something like this to us?”

            “How did I do this to you? This is my life. It does not impact you.”

            “Of course it does! What you do impacts this family, Oliver. We have a reputation to uphold!”

            “Did you hear that, Ollie?” Thea said breathlessly.  “A reputation!”

            Moira set her daughter with a withering look as the latter dissolved into laughter. “Thea, behave yourself.”

            “Look, it’s over,” Oliver interjected.  “Felicity and I are married.  It’s done.”

Moira stepped toward Oliver and began, “I know that things have been difficult for you since Tommy’s accident, but –“

            “Don’t bring that into this,” Oliver interrupted heatedly.  “This has nothing to do with what happened with Tommy.”

            “You’re acting out,” Moira said.  “And that is understandable. When a trauma happens like that it affects people.”

            “Stop it,” Oliver hissed.

            “But that is no excuse to go and throw your life away.”

            “How is marrying a woman I love throwing my life away?”  Oliver threw back.

            Moira snorted, gesturing toward him with her half-full gin and tonic.  “Oh, you love her?  Do you, Oliver? You _love_ her?  Please. This is a joke. You’ve known the girl for less than a week.”

            “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Oliver said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.  I fell in love and I got married.  That’s the end of the story.”

            “Oliver!”

            He turned around, nodding toward his father who had just entered the room.  He expected some sort of reprimand from him, as well, but instead his father strode over and gave him a tight hug.

            “I have to say, I thought this day would never come!” he said.  “Congratulations, son.  Love. It really hits you, right?”

            “You can’t be serious,” Moira complained. “Robert, you _cannot_ be serious.”

            “Has your mother been giving you a hard time?”  Robert asked. “She forgets that we got married only weeks after meeting.”

            “Weeks and hours, dear. There’s a difference,” Moira returned tartly.

            “I would have married you the day I met you had there been any chance you would have said yes,” Robert held with a wry grin.  “Oliver was just lucky enough to find someone who did.  She’s lovely from the picture, by the way.”

            “Thank you,” Oliver said. “She’s, um, really something.”

            “Tell us about her,” Robert asked excitedly.

            “Well, um, she’s nice.   And rare.  And sweet.  Really sweet. And, she has the softest blonde hair. It’s like silk almost.”

            Oliver thought back to that night, and how her hair had felt slipping through his fingers. He thought of her head on his chest, and how her hair looked almost like gold in the morning sunlight.

            “She sounds lovely,” Robert said.  “I want you both here for dinner tonight.”

            Oliver immediately said, “Oh, I don’t know…we might have plans.”

            “Might? Well, whatever those plans are they don’t seem too concrete.  Come have dinner with your parents.  I can’t wait to meet this Felicity.”  He glanced over at Moira and added, “Your mother and I _both_ can’t wait.”

            “You’ve got that right,” Moira answered icily.

            “I guess we can make it,” Oliver said slowly.  He looked over at his mother and said, “You have to promise to be nice tonight, though. Don’t attack her.”

            “If she’s as lovely as you say she is, then I won’t have any need to,” Moira returned. “But if I sense that anything is even a little off, I’ll have no choice but to look into it. It’s my motherly duty, after all.”

            Thea walked past them to head upstairs and glibly added, “That means her claws will be _out_.”

           

* * *

 

 

            Felicity’s immediate reaction to Oliver telling her that they were supposed to have dinner with his family that night was to say no.  But then she remembered that this is what she signed up for when they agreed to continue with the marriage, so she sucked it up and said that her night was free and she’d be happy to meet his parents.  He told her he would pick her up at eight, but showed up fifteen minutes early.

            She was halfway through her makeup when there was a knock on her door.  She screwed the cap back on her liquid eyeliner and went over to the door, surprised to find Oliver there.

            “I thought I was meeting you down by your car?” she said.

            “Yeah, I know. But I figured I should probably come up here and pick you up.  I mean, we are technically married.  It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

            She pressed her lips together. “Okay, I get that. Sort of.  Anyway, I’m still getting dressed, so…just wait out here?”

            Oliver nodded and sat down on the couch.  He reached forward and grabbed a magazine off the coffee table.  “Yeah, I’ll just…entertain myself with … this Cosmopolitan magazine.”

            Felicity smirked. “Have fun with that. I shouldn’t be long.”

            She went back into her bedroom, feeling her stomach do several flips as she closed the door behind her. It was difficult to wrap her head around the notion that her _husband_ was sitting outside.  Sure, it was a legal fiction, but still…it was true.  He was her husband.  She was a wife.

            _Damn_.

            She quickly finished her makeup and then walked over to her closet, grabbing the dress she’d picked out for the night.  It was a deep blue wrap dress that set off her porcelain skin and light hair.  She added a delicate necklace, some earrings, and then headed out to Oliver. 

            “How’s the magazine?” she asked.

            “Good,” Oliver said, not looking up from the page.  “According to this quiz, Ryan Gosling is my perfect man.”

            “Really? I would have pegged you for more of an Adam Levine type.”

            He laughed, looking up from the magazine.  His laugh caught in his throat as he took in the vision of her.  She stood, awkwardly shifting between her feet as she felt his eyes travel down her form.

            His voice was guarded when he said, “You look beautiful.”

            “Thanks,” she said, smiling tightly.  “I’ve been waiting for an occasion to wear this dress.  When you told me about tonight I thought, why not?”

            “You look beautiful in it.”

            She cleared her throat and said, “Well, we better get going.  I don’t know your parents, but they seem like the prompt type.”

            Oliver laughed, standing up. “A bit.  They’re excited to meet you.”

            “Well, that’s good.”

            She followed him out of the apartment, trying to not notice how nice he smelled, or how his cobalt grey sweater brought out his eyes.  He opened the car door for her and she slid in.  The car’s interior was nicer than her apartment, and she idly wondered just how expensive this car was as he took the seat next to her.

            “So, I probably should tell you that my mother is a bit suspicious about all of this,” Oliver said. “She’ll warm up to you, but in the meantime…”

            “This is going to be weird,” Felicity mused, resting her had back against the headrest.  “A parent not liking me.  You don’t know this about me, but I’m great with parents.  If meeting the parents was an Olympic sport I’d get the gold medal.”

            Oliver smirked. “I have no doubt.”

            “But, you know what, I like a challenge.  I am determined to make your mother like me by the end of the night.”

            “Oh, Felicity – “ he glanced over at her, “ – don’t you think you should give yourself a bit longer of a timeline?  I mean, we’ll only be there a few hours.”

            “A few hours is more than enough.  Just see.”

            Oliver looked unconvinced, and she felt her own nerves mount when they pulled in front of a house that looked like it belonged to the Rockefellers.  It was all columns and manicured shrubbery, a far cry from the two bedroom apartment she grew up in.

            “This is where you grew up?” she asked, swallowing hard as she titled her head back to see all of the house.

            “Yeah.” He saw her amazement and added, “It’s not as big as it looks.  Really. It’s an optical illusion. It…” he trailed off when a maid answered the front door and Felicity looked over at him with wide eyes. “Okay, it kind of is.”

            “Um, yeah.”

            “Oliver, it is so wonderful to have you back!”  the maid said, practically beaming when Oliver stepped forward and gave her a hug.

            “It’s wonderful to be back. Raisa, this is my wife Felicity. Felicity, this is the irreplaceable Raisa.  She had the enviable task of chasing after me when I was a kid.”

            Raisa grinned and pointed at her head of gray hair.  “He’s the reason I have all of these.”

            “I bet you were a hellion,” Felicity teased, knocking her elbow against Oliver’s arm.

            “Oh, I was. I took misbehaving very seriously.”

            “Do I hear my son?” Robert Queen boomed, walking into the corridor.  Felicity immediately liked him.  He had a warm grin and a gregarious continence.  Just his presence put her at ease.

            “Dad, hi,” Oliver said, stepping forward with Felicity a step behind. 

            Robert gave his son’s shoulder a clap before turning his attention fully on Felicity. His grin went even wider and he said, “You must be Felicity.  I am so happy to finally meet you!”

            She expected a handshake but when she extended her hand he took it and pulled her into a sudden embrace. She laughed, embracing him lightly as she said, “It’s wonderful to meet you, too, Mr. Queen.”

            “Please, call me Robert! Or Dad!”  Robert said.  “We are family now, after all!”

            “You don’t have to call him Dad,” Oliver told her, shooting his father a sheepish grin. “Where’s Mom?”

            “She’s readying dinner.”

            Oliver frowned. “What do you mean she’s readying dinner? Mom doesn’t cook.”

            “She‘s making sure the dinner is executed well,” Robert told him slowly. “Your mother takes things like this very seriously.  Remember, you –“

            “Only make a first impression once,” Oliver finished.  “I know. What about some drinks to start with?”

            “Yes,” Robert said, clapping his hands together.  “Drinks. That’s perfect. Felicity, what do you drink?”

            “Oh, anything,” Felicity said.

            “Red wine,” Oliver said. He looked over at Felicity. “That’s your favorite, right?”

            She nodded, surprised that he knew.  She vaguely remembered having some the night they met – one or two drinks among the many – but she didn’t remember anything further on the topic.

            “That’s a good choice,” Robert said.  “I like a woman who appreciates a good wine.”

            “Where’s Thea?” Oliver asked.  “I’m surprised she didn’t tackle Raisa to answer the door.”

            “She’s out with Ro tonight. But I’ve been instructed to tell you to provide Felicity with her phone call so they can set up a dinner.”

            “I can do that,” Oliver said. He glanced over at Felicity and nodded a bit as if to tell her that Thea was the easy one in the family, and she had nothing to worry about.

            They went into the living room and settled on the ornate furniture that felt as uncomfortable as it looked. Felicity could tell the moment Moira entered the room by the distinct chill that went down her spine. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared herself for her task that night.  Win over the mother.

            “You must be Mrs. Queen,” Felicity said, standing up.  She reached out her hand toward the older woman and said, “It is so nice to finally meet you.”

            Moira returned a tepid greeting, shaking Felicity’s hand limply and saying, “You too, dear. I’m so happy we could finally meet you. Although, I suppose this isn’t too delayed of an introduction.  You and Oliver only met this weekend, correct?”

            Felicity felt Oliver begin to stand behind her when she lightly said, “That feels like a lifetime ago.” She glanced back at Oliver with a feigned grin, relieved when she saw him sitting back down. “These past few days have been an absolute whirlwind.”

            “So, Felicity, tell us a bit about yourself.  What do you do?” Moira asked, sitting down next to her husband.

            “I work in the IT department at U of N,” Felicity said. 

            “Interesting,” Robert said. “How do you like it there?”

            “It’s great,” Felicity said. “The work is challenging, and one of my best friends actually works at the University, too.  She heads up the admissions department.  So, it’s really great.”

            “And what about your parents?” Moira asked.

            “My dad’s out of the picture,” Felicity said carefully.  “So, I don’t really know what he’s doing.”

            “What do you mean out of the picture?”  Moira asked, receiving a rather affronted look from her son. 

            “Mom, I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.  Felicity doesn’t have to –“

            “No, it’s fine,” Felicity said. “He, um, left when I was six months old. So, I don’t really remember him or know anything about him other than the fact that he’s my father and he stole my mom’s Journey record.  That’s about it.”

            “What does your mother do?” Robert asked.

            “She’s a cocktail waitress at one of the downtown casinos,”  Felicity said, taking a small sip of her wine. 

            “What a unique choice of work,” Moira said drily.

            “It’s served her well. It paid the bills and put me through college,” Felicity said.  “And she never missed a birthday or graduation.  I know she wouldn’t wish it on me, but it’s worked out for her.”

            “You have to admire someone who works so hard for their children,”  Robert said.  “I think it’s wonderful.”

            “She’s a wonderful woman,” Felicity said.  Feeling the need to turn the conversation, she added, “Much like yourself, Mrs. Queen. I really admire the work you’ve done with the Homeless Initiative.”

            Moira showed some surprise, which Felicity took as a small victory.  Oliver had made fun of her for quickly reading up on his mother on the drive there, but it was already paying off.

            “Thank you,” Moira said.

            “I think there’s nothing better that a person can do than give back to their community.”

            Moira nodded and said, “I couldn’t agree more.”

            Raisa walked into the room and cleared her throat before announcing that dinner was ready. Oliver and Felicity took their time getting up while Moira and Robert headed into the dining room. In a low voice Oliver said, “Well played.”

            “I told you I’m good with parents.”

            “She’s not convinced yet.”

            “I still have time.”

 

* * *

 

 

            One dinner, another glass of wine, and too many cream puffs later, Felicity and Oliver had said their goodbyes and headed back to the car.  Moira maintained her suspicion throughout dinner, but seemed to settle somewhat by dessert. She gave Felicity a distant hug before her and Oliver left, and made the perhaps genuine – but likely not – suggestion that they meet for tea sometime soon.

            “Still think you won my mother over?”  Oliver asked in the car.

            “I didn’t quite hit the mark,” Felicity admitted. “But, I feel like I made definite progress.”

            While Felicity was dubious about just how far she’d gone with breaking through Moira’s suspicions, Moira was similarly dubious about Felicity herself.  She stood at the window, watching Oliver drive away.

            “What a lovely girl,” Robert noted.  “So poised and pleasant. I have to admit, I did not think he would end up with one like her.  Oliver has many fine attributes, but his taste in women is not one of them.”

            “I’m not convinced,” Moira said.

            “Convinced of what?”

            “Of her, of them,” she said shortly, turning away from the window.  “I know you want to turn a blind eye to the blaringly obvious, but there is something going on there.”

            “You mean the timing? Moira, Oliver has always been impulsive. Ever since he was a little boy.”

            “This isn’t about being impulsive or not, Robert.  Something is off.”

            “Did it ever occur to you that nothing is wrong, but you just don’t want to lose your son? It’s natural to feel that way, dear. But you shouldn’t let it cloud your judgment like this.”

            “Okay, that is just plain wrong,” Moira shot back.  “My judgment is not clouded.  There is something off about them. Something off about her. And I’m going to figure out what it is.”


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

            It all started out casually enough.  The bridal party out for dinner and a few drinks.  Felicity expected to be home and snuggled up with her Netflix account by midnight.  Things didn’t exactly go as planned.

            Felicity glanced over to the side, peering through the iron bars at the guard standing by the door.  In the cell next to her, a snoring drunk, passed out on a bench, grunted loudly and turned on her side, falling clear off the bench.  Felicity walked over and urgently whispered, “Hey, are you okay?”

            The woman grunted in response.

            Felicity never spent a night in jail before.  She didn’t remember much of the night, thanks to several glasses of red wine and a foggy memory of an Irish car bomb, but the crick in her neck and throbbing pain in her hip told her it hadn’t been a restful night.

            Another guard walked in and said something to the one manning the door. He went over to Felicity and told her, “The phone’s open if you want to make your phone call.”

            “My phone call?” she asked in confusion.

            “Yeah, you get one.  Last night you were too gone to call anyone.  You’re out of here at noon, so you might want to call someone who can pick you up.”

            Felicity stared at him, wondering from whom she’d subject herself to endless jokes and snarky comments.  She didn’t trust any of the friends she’d been with last night to actually be awake. Donna certainly wasn’t an option. She sighed.

            “I guess I better call my husband.”

            This was not going to be fun to explain.

 

FOURTEEN HOURS EARLIER

 

            “I don’t get why we all have to go to dinner,” Lydia complained, waiting with Felicity on the street corner, trying to flag a taxi down. “Penny sees us enough. And we’re going to that shitty Mere place.  You spend twenty dollars for a scallop the size of your thumb.”

            “We’re being supportive, remember?”  Felicity reminded her.  “Wedding planning is stressful.”

            “How is it stressful?  She hired someone to do everything.  All she does is judge.”

            Felicity spotted a cab and leaned forward with her hand out. She wasn’t exactly tickled pink to have to go to this dinner, either.  She’d been trying to avoid big nights out ever since her and Oliver’s sudden marriage.  Individual questions were easy enough to field, and she’d gotten her fair share, but she was dreading having the entire group together at once.

            The cab pulled to a stop, and Felicity and Lydia climbed in, giving the driver the address for the restaurant.  Lydia tugged the bottom of her dress down and then rested her elbow on the bottom lip of the window.

            “So, you’re sticking with this married bullshit tonight?” Lydia asked pointedly.

            “Yes, I am,” Felicity held.  “And it’s not bullshit.  It’s court ordered.”

            “Yeah, the whole you pretending to actually be in love with him isn’t.”

            “Details,” Felicity said off-handedly. 

            “How was meeting the parents?”  Lydia asked. “I never did get the full story from you on your dinner last week.”

            “Everyone was nice enough,” Felicity said with a shrug.  “His mom will take a bit of work, but I think I can do it. I’m good with parents.”

            “I bet you are.  You have a very wholesome appearance.”  She laughed sardonically.  “If only they knew.”

            “I’m wholesome…ish,” Felicity argued.

            “You drunkenly got married in Vegas.”

            “Hence the ‘ish’.”

            Felicity looked out the window, wondering how her life had gotten so needlessly complicated in the past few weeks.  Before, her biggest worry was that she’d get drunk at Penny’s wedding and say something embarrassing.  Now, she had a fake husband – but not actually fake – and a whole convoluted story and married life to keep up. 

            The traffic was thick around dinnertime, and it took them a pretty good chunk of time to make it to Mere.  When they pulled up, Penny was getting out of a cab in front of them. Felicity was just about to pull some cash out of her wallet when she saw Brian climb out of the cab.

            Lydia saw, too, and murmured, “Shit, what’s he doing here?  I thought this was just a bridal party dinner.”

            “Yeah, me too,” Felicity said, her mouth going dry. 

            She looked down at her wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, handing it over to the cab driver, and telling him to keep the change.  When they climbed out Lydia said, “You just gave him an eight dollar tip.”

            “Good karma,” Felicity said over her shoulder.  “I could use some right now.”

            Penny and Brian had seen them getting out of their cab, and waited for them at the front of the restaurant.  Penny hugged her first, smelling like Chanel and powdery makeup, and then she moved on to Lydia, who immediately started complaining about the choice of restaurant. Felicity stood in front of Brian, smiling shyly before he stepped forward and gave her a hug. His lips brushed her cheek, and she felt a flush go all the way from her hairline to her toes. He smelled so familiar, a mixture of lemon and pine.  She remembered when she could find that scent on her pillow, her sheets, her skin.

            “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said, voice low and intimate. She hated him for talking like that. It wasn’t fair.

            “They are, thank you,” she said, taking a deliberate step back. Feeling emboldened, she pushed her hair off her shoulder, a simple gesture she knew he liked, and watched his eyes travel up pale column of her neck.  His eyes darkened, and she bit the inside of her cheek, keeping the smirk at bay. Two could play this game, buddy.

            “I wouldn’t have taken you for the married in Vegas type,” he continued, tearing his gaze away from her exposed skin, and back up to her face. “It’s so impulsive.”

            “Who says I’m not impulsive?”

            He laughed, the sound bruising her like sandpaper.  “You couldn’t even get dinner when we were together without ten minutes notice.  Remember when I tried to surprise you for our anniversary?”

            Felicity noticed then that Penny and Lydia had gone inside. It was just the two of them outside, going on about old times.  She felt a sudden need to be anywhere but there, so close to him that she could reach forward and feel his skin beneath her fingers.  It frightened her how much she still wanted him.  Even after all this time.  Even with a fiancée inside, and the reality that he didn’t choose her – he never would choose her – it didn’t matter.  It didn’t change the fact that she still loved him.

            “I guess I’ve changed,” she said forcefully, wanting the words to be true. Wishing they were true.

            “I guess you have.”

            “We should go inside,” she said, turning away before she got an answer. The restaurant was busy, throngs of people piled in the foyer, their voices bouncing off the walls and ceiling. She pushed through, craning her neck until she spotted Lydia and the rest over at a corner table. Lydia saved her a seat and she sat down, tossing her purse under the table.  Lydia gave her a questioning look, no doubt prompted by her and Brian’s extended stay outside, but she shook her head and said, “Not now.”

            “I ordered you wine,” Lydia said, pushing the full glass toward her.

            Felicity smiled gratefully, actively ignoring the urge to look toward Brian as he settled down next to Penny.  She could feel his gaze. 

            “You are a very good friend, Lydia.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “So, tell me, what’s it like being married to a billionaire?” Felicity’s friend, Heather, asked, leaning forward conspiringly with a glass of chardonnay clasped in her hand. “Is it wonderful? I bet it’s wonderful.”

            “It’s pretty great,” Felicity said.  “He’s, um, he’s wonderful.  We have so much fun together.”

            In reality, they didn’t do much of anything together.  She hadn’t seen him since their dinner with his parents, and save for the odd text here and there, she hadn’t heard from him, either.

            “I still don’t know how you got him at my bachelorette party,” Penny said loudly, artfully turning the conversation squarely back onto her. It was a skill she honed well over the years. “Isn’t the bride supposed to get all the male attention?”

            “I’m sure you got more than enough attention,” Brian said, kissing her cheek. “I heard a few stories, babe.”

            Penny scoffed, playing affronted but clearly enjoying the attention. She turned her gaze to her friends and murmured, “Girls, don’t you know that what happens at the bachelorette party stays at the bachelorette party?” 

            “Unless you get chlamydia or something,” Lydia interjected, draining her drink. She was met with questioning gazes, and she returned, “What?  I’m just saying…that wouldn’t stay at the bachelorette party.  Because it’s an STD.”

            “We get it, Lyd,” Penny said tartly.  “We just don’t get why you felt the need to say it.”

            Lydia shrugged, reaching forward and plucking a roasted potato off of Penny’s plate.  “Don’t really need a reason to say something.  You surely never do.”

            “Okay, how about we get some dessert,” Felicity said loudly, sensing a seismic shift in the mood at the table.  Penny looked murderous, and she knew once the bride was set off, there’d be little stopping her tirade.  She wouldn’t put it past her to pull Lydia from the bridal party right there, and Felicity was not chancing going through the hell that would be that wedding without Lydia.

            “Screw dessert, let’s get more wine,” Heather said, reaching forward and picking up the bottle they’d been drinking from.  “What do you say, another bottle of this one? I liked it.”

            “More wine sounds great,” Felicity said.  She held out a hand and flagged down their waiter.

 

* * *

 

 

            Two bottles of wine later they ended up at a bar down the street from the restaurant. Felicity was already well past buzzed, which made additional drinks sound like the greatest idea ever. When someone suggested Irish car bombs, she heartily bellowed yes, ignoring the small voice in the back of her head that reminded her mixing liquors was the surest pathway to a bathroom.

            “I haven’t seen you do one of those since college,” Brian said, arm sliding around her waist after they all slammed their empty beer steins on the bar. She laughed, looking up into his face and thinking that it was the most perfect one she’d ever seen.

            “Babe, come over here,” Penny slurred, tugging Brian’s arm and pulling him away from Felicity.  She reached up and kissed him messily, fingers threading through his hair.  Felicity stood next to them, watching him kiss Penny just like he used to kiss, and suddenly she felt sick.  Very sick.

            “Fuck them,” Lydia said, threading her arm through Felicity’s. “Just fuck them.”

            “I think I need to puke,” Felicity mumbled.

            “Me too.”

            They went to the bathroom, puked in their respective stalls, and then washed their mouths out in the sinks.  Felicity had a moment of clarity, staring into her bloodshot eyes in the bar bathroom. What was she doing? And then Lydia suggested getting some wine, and the moment ended, unable to compete with the allure of more alcohol.

 

* * *

 

 

            That last bit of wine was the last thing Felicity remembered before waking up in the jail cell.  While she laid on the cot waiting for Oliver to pick her up, blinding headache pulsing behind her eyes, later bits came back to her.  Her and Lydia yelling along to _I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)_. Dancing with some guy with dreadlocks. Peeing behind a building.

            Felicity winced.  That’s how she ended up here.  She vaguely remembered a police officer finding her with her underwear around her ankles. And telling him, as he pulled her to his squat car, that it was okay, she didn’t have to pee anymore.

            She really hoped that no one except for Lydia – who she foggily remembered yelling at the officer – knew she’d ended up in jail for public intoxication. She’d never live this one down.

            She heard the door at the front of the unit slide open, and then the guard walked forward, looking up at the camera positioned in the corner of the room before she heard her own door unlock.  She stood up unsteadily, holding her hands out in front of her for balance. Her entire body seemed to be throbbing now, and she swore in that moment, staggering forward to follow the officer, that she would never drink again.  Especially considering that in her two most recent episodes she’d ended up married and in jail.

            “Your husband paid your fine,” the guard said.  “So, you’re free to go.”

            “My fine?”  she asked in confusion. She didn’t remember that. “How much was it?”

            “Five hundred dollars.”

            She shook her head and murmured, “You should have sent the bill to Penny Lancaster and Brian Nichols.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Nothing,” she said quickly, feeling her cheeks prickle with color when they stepped out into the front area of the prison and she saw Oliver. She thought calling Oliver would make all of this a bit less humiliating, but she was wrong.  If possible, it felt even more.

            “Hi Oliver,” she said in a small voice.

            “This is certainly not a call I thought I’d get on a Thursday morning,” he returned pleasantly. 

            “I’m really sorry you had to come out here,” she said.  “And I’ll pay you back for the five hundred dollars.”

            “Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively.  “It’s only right that a husband come and bail his wife out of jail.”

            She groaned, covering her eyes with her hand.  “This is so embarrassing.  I swear I’m not usually like this.  I don’t even like to drink that much.  I swear.”

            “No judgment here.  The first time you get bailed out of jail is almost like a right of passage among my friends.”

            She looked over at him.  “I think you need to get different friends.”

            He chuckled.  “So, what happened?”

            They got to his car and he opened the passenger door for her. As she sat down she murmured, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            He went around and sat in the driver’s seat.   After starting up the car he told her, “That’s not how this works. I pick you up, you tell me what landed you in jail.  It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”

            “My head feels like it’s going to explode,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Can’t we talk about this later.”

            Oliver looked over at her, taking in the caked eyeliner under her eyes and her mussed hair.  She must have had one hell of a night, and if he knew anything about her from their brief time together, whatever put her in this state probably wasn’t good.

            “Yeah, we can talk about it later,” he relented. 

            They drove in silence for a while.  Oliver glancing at her now and then as he drove toward her apartment. When they were near her apartment he asked the question that had been on his mind since he got the call that morning.

            “Why did you call me?” he asked.

            “Huh?”

            “Of all the people in your life, why did you call me?”

            She looked over at him, trying to piece together exactly why she made that decision. After a few moments she settled on, “I thought you wouldn’t judge me.”

            “You were right,” he said. 

            She turned her gaze forward again.  “And all my close friends were also out with me last night.   I didn’t think they’d be in a state to drive.”

            “Ah, so there’s the real reason,” he said. 

            They parked in front of the building and he opened her door, helping her out. Her body still thought it was drunk, and she found staying upright exceedingly difficult.  Oliver held onto her arm and guided her up the stairs.

            “What the hell did you drink last night?” he asked, noting her death grip on his arm.

            “Too many things,” she said. “Never mix red wine and Irish car bombs.”

            Oliver winced.  “Ouch.”

            “You can say that again.”

            They got to her door and she fished the keys out of her purse, opening the front door. She went immediately to the couch, crashing into the soft cushions and burying her face in the decorative pillow. She moved her face just enough to get out, “Thank you for taking me home.  You are making a surprisingly good fake husband.”

            “Well, thank you.”

            She waited for the door to open and close, but heard nothing. Instead, she heard him walk into her kitchen and start rummaging through her cabinets.  Unable to lift her head to see what he was doing, she called out, “Oliver?  Why are you in my kitchen?”   

            “I’m making you breakfast.”

            Just the thought of food made her stomach turn, and she bit out, “My stomach’s not into that.”

            “Which is exactly why you need someone here to make sure you eat. You’ll feel a lot better.”

            She shook her head, and immediately regretted it. “No.  No, I don’t think I will.”

            “Trust me,” he said.  “I’ve nursed my fair share of hangovers.  You need food. A good dose of protein. Some carbs to soak up whatever alcohol is left in you.”

            “Ugh. Don’t say alcohol.”

            “You just lay there.  I’ll make you some breakfast, and you’ll feel better.  I promise.”

            If only everything she was feeling could be remedied with breakfast. It was more than a hangover from alcohol.  It was a hangover from Brian.  Just as acutely as she felt the pain in her head, she felt the places he’d touched her, his mouth on her cheek, his arm around her waist.  She hated him for doing it almost as much as she hated herself for letting him. Penny may dangle her relationship with Brain in front of her, but that wasn’t an excuse for her behavior. And she knew Penny only did what she did out of a deep-seated insecurity about her and Brian’s previous relationship. One night when they’d all been out together, a drunk Penny had confided in her that she was afraid Brian would never love her the same way he’d loved Felicity.  She was ashamed to admit that she’d gotten a smug sense of satisfaction from that, which she tried to compensate for by being outwardly supportive, listening to all the stories and taking part in the wedding. All of it shouted – I’m okay with this! It doesn’t hurt me!

            Except it wasn’t.  And it did.

            She smelled eggs, and her stomach reacted violently. 

            “Oliver –“

            “Ignore your body right now,” he said.  “It doesn’t know what’s best for it.”

            “If I puke on this couch you’re cleaning it up,” she returned glumly.

            “You’re not going to puke,” he said. 

            “Yeah, tell my stomach that.”

            “This may not make a difference right now, but I am lauded as one of the best scrambled egg makers in all of Las Vegas.”

            She grunted in response.

            “The secret is the cheese,” he said, his voice suddenly closer. He appeared beside the couch, steaming plate of eggs in his hand.  She felt the urge to retch, and covered her mouth.  “You can’t just sprinkle it on top.  That’s a rookie move.  You need to cook it into the egg.”

            “Can you please stop talking,” she murmured, swallowing hard.

            “If you take a bite of this, yes,” he said, holding a forkful of egg out toward her mouth.  She sighed and then opened her mouth dutifully.  The minute the egg touched her tongue her flavor buds lit up like fireworks, and not in a particularly pleasant way.  She went to spit it out, but Oliver covered her mouth with his hand and said, “No, swallow.  Come on, you can eat one bite of egg.”

            She swallowed the egg and then murmured, “I hate you.”

            “That’s the spirit.  Let’s try another forkful.”

            She grabbed the fork from his hand and said, “I can feed myself.”

            She heard the toaster click, and he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. Before he left he told her, “Don’t put those eggs in the couch or something.”

            She glared at him, although admittedly she’d been considering other places to put it that did not involve her mouth.  Instead, she scooped up another forkful and put it in her mouth, hating each and every chew.  He returned with two pieces of toast.

            “They’re dry right now,” he said.  “But I can put some butter on them if you think you can handle it.”

            Her stomach whined in protest.  “I don’t think so.”

            “Alright,” he put the toast on her plate.  “Try to get these down.  You have some tea coming up next.  Good source of both water and caffeine.”

            He disappeared back into the kitchen, and she pushed herself up into more of a sitting position, forcing herself to alternate bites of egg and toast. She hated to admit it, but she could feel herself getting marginally better.  Her head felt less foggy, and the coiling of her stomach loosened slightly. He returned with the tea and placed it on the coffee table, sitting cross legged on the floor next to the couch.

            She looked down at him and said, “Sorry about being grumpy. I really do appreciate you doing this.”

            “I wish I had someone to nurse me through some of my worst hangovers,” he returned. “More than happy to help.” He paused for a moment and then added, “Plus, it’s a slow day at work.”

            She smiled a bit.  “Ah, there it is. The truth comes out.”

            “You don’t really have to tell me what happened last night,” he said. “But, whatever it was – or whoever – it’s not worth it.  Trust me.”

            She looked down at the plate, feeling an uncharacteristic weepiness take over.

            “I peed behind a building,” she admitted.  “I don’t even always like to use the bathroom when there are other people in it, and I peed out in the open.  Behind a building.”

            Oliver tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably.

            “It’s not funny,” she said morosely.

            “Yeah, it sort of is,” he said, wiping at his eyes.  “Believe me, you can’t see it now, but it’s pretty funny.”

            “This isn’t like me,” she said.  “But, ever since –“

            She stopped herself, shaking her head.  She covered the silence with a bite of toast, and he asked, “Ever since what?”

            “Never mind.”

            “Ever since your friend got engaged to your ex-boyfriend?”  Oliver suggested gently.

            “We don’t need to talk about this,” she said.  “I have my friends for this.  You’ve already had to deal with enough of me today.”

            “I don’t mind,” he said.  “I’ve listened to a lot of this stuff with Thea over the years.  I’ve actually gotten pretty used to it.”

            Felicity smirked, imagining Oliver sitting and listening to all of his little sister’s misadventures in love.

            “I’m fine, really,” she said.  “But, thank you.”

            “No problem,” he said easily.  He took the mug of tea off the coffee table and held it out to her.  “Time to get some liquids in your system.”

            She took the mug from him and took a small sip.  The tea felt warm and nourishing, like a hug to her insides, and she took another sip.  When she was finished she held the mug in her lap and told him, “You know, you’re going make a really good husband one day.”

            He grinned a bit.  “You think?”

            She nodded.  “Your wife will be a very lucky woman.”

            His phone went off, and he pulled it out of his pocket, answering with an assertive, “Oliver, here.”  

            She watched him on the call, lazily letting her gaze take in all of him.   The sharp angles of his face. The slightly wrinkled grey tshirt. Only a few weeks prior she didn’t even know he existed.  Now, here was in her apartment, making sure she had her breakfast and tea.

            “I need to head over to the club,” he said after hanging up. “There’s some issue with the wine shipment.  Are you feeling at least a little better?”

            She nodded. “Yeah.  A bit more human-like.”

            He chuckled.  “That’s good to hear. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

            “Okay.”

            “And try not to get yourself in jail again tonight,” he said, heading toward the door. “I have a very important brunch date with my sister tomorrow.”

            “Believe me, I will not be straying far from this couch,” she told him. “And thank you again.”

            “You’re welcome.  Bye Felicity.”

            She heard the door close and she put the now nearly empty plate on the coffee table. She took another few gulps of tea, and then grabbed the pillow off the end of the couch, holding it against her chest. She burrowed deep into the couch and closed her eyes, The Proclaimer’s seminal classic from the night before lazily coming to mind.

 

_But I would walk 500 miles_

_And I would walk 500 more_

_To be the man who walked 1,000 miles_

_To fall down at your door_

           


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

****

            Felicity sat in her living room, checking her watch anxiously as she waited for Oliver to pick her up. It was Penny and Brian’s rehearsal dinner, and she could feel her nerves pulled as tight as a violin string. Guilty feelings lingered from their last dinner together, where her and Brian flirted too close to something that she surely would have regretted in the morning. Spending the night in jail hadn’t exactly been pleasant, but at least there she only had her own sins on which to ruminate. Then, of course, there was everything with Oliver that came afterwards. For someone who didn’t often get drunk, she seemed to do it an alarming amount in front of him. To his credit, he didn’t judge her. In fact, he seemed positively entertained by the circumstances she found herself in, much to her chagrin.

            She was relieved to have him with her for this night, for the power in numbers, if nothing else. It was bad enough that she actually had to stand witness to Penny and Brian professing their undying love for each other, but then she also had to watch them do it for play? Felicity never understood the use of the rehearsal dinner. It wasn’t as if walking down an aisle took that much practice, especially with a helicopter wedding planner orchestrating the entire affair. Still, it was tradition, and Penny, in all her untraditional glory, was a stickler for tradition.

            There was a knock at her door and Felicity jumped up and walked quickly over to the door. Oliver stood on the other side, looking handsome as always in a crisp button down, slacks and plaid blazer. His shirt was open at the neck, revealing his tan skin.

            “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Traffic here was a bitch.”

            “It’s fine,” she said, stepping back to let him in. She rubbed the back of her neck and said, “It’s not like I’m really in a hurry to get there.”

            Oliver smirked. He didn’t know her well, but he knew her well enough to read straight past that lie. “Of course not. Are you ready then?”

            “Yes, absolutely. Let’s go.”

            She rushed out, forgetting her purse on the couch. He shook his head slightly before walking over and picking it up. He followed her out of the apartment, closing the door behind him, and said, “You look nice, by the way.”

            “Thank you,” she said crisply. “I just pulled out the first dress I saw, really.”

            She hadn’t. It took her a good forty minutes to pick out an outfit, and then another fifteen to nix that one and start all over.

            “Well, you pulled well,” Oliver returned, handing Felicity her purse. Felicity smirked and he added, “That sounded better in my head.”

            “I imagine it did.”

            “Are you sure I should be coming with you?” Oliver asked. “I’m not in the party. I thought the rehearsal dinner is usually just for the bridal party.”

            “I asked Penny if I could bring you,” Felicity said. After the last debacle, there was no way she was going to this by herself. “I half expected her to say no, but I don’t think she could pass up a chance to pepper you with questions. The last time she met you, she wasn’t exactly in a questioning state.”

            Oliver laughed. “No, she wasn’t. She didn’t exactly seem in an engaged state either.”

            “What are you talking about? She told everyone who would listen that she was engaged.”

            “Yes, she also looked ready to go home with that black jack dealer.”

            Felicity couldn’t deny that. She also couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t surprise her if Penny went back to that dealer’s room, or another male’s. She felt bad for Brian, until she remembered their own dance the week prior.   It seemed him and Penny deserved each other. Remembering her role in all of it, Felicity wondered just who it was that she deserved.

            They stepped out of her building, and Felicity spotted a bright red Ferrari parked out front. Oliver pulled out a pair of keys and the lights flashed as the car unlocked.

            “Wait, this is your car?”

            Oliver nodded. “Yeah, why?”

            “This isn’t the one you had when you picked me up at…,” she trailed off, “…you know where.”

            “Jail?”

            “I was trying to be vague, but yes, jail.”

            “I have more than one,” he answered reasonably, as if it were completely normal to own two Ferraris. Perhaps in his world it was. In hers, it definitely was not. “You’ll like this one. It has heated seats.”

            Felicity couldn’t argue that. He opened the passenger door for her, and she sat down. He waited for her to pull the edge of her dress in before gently closing the door. The car smelled like him. It wasn’t unpleasant, and she closed her eyes, trying to find some comfort in the strangely familiar scent. So much of him had become familiar over the past few weeks. It was strange how someone who had been a complete stranger weeks prior, became such a constant. His smell did calm her nerves, just as he did when he slid into the seat beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached over to shift the car into drive.

            “Thank you for coming with me,” she murmured. “It really helps. Having someone with me for this. I know it’s pathetic –“

            “It’s not pathetic,” Oliver interrupted. “You love him. As ill advised as I’m beginning to think that is, you can’t help how you feel. This can’t be easy for you.”

            “It’s not,” she admitted. “But, for some reason having you here makes it better. So, thank you.”

            “You’re very welcome.”

            They talked casually for the rest of the ride to the wedding venue, conversation floating easily between them. Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked so aimlessly with someone. It was nice. Lately with Lydia, the conversations always revolved around Penny and Brian or her and Oliver. It felt refreshing to talk about absolutely nothing. Felicity found herself disappointed when they pulled up to the country club, Oliver quickly finding a parking spot.

            “And, here we are,” Oliver said, killing the ignition.

            “Here we are,” she echoed. “Do we have to go in?”

            Oliver chuckled. “I don’t, but I’m pretty sure that you do. You are in the wedding party, after all.”

            “Oh right. They probably do need me.”

            Oliver glanced at the dashboard clock. “We probably can spare a few more minutes, though.”

            “You think so? That clock says we’re ten minutes late.”

            “No one’s called you yet. Penny strikes me as someone who would make your tardiness known.”

            Felicity laughed. “That is an astute observation. We can probably spare another five minutes. At the least.”

            Felicity felt her phone buzz against her foot, but she ignored it. They could all wait five minutes.

           

* * *

 

 

            Oliver sat at the back of the venue, his mind very much back in that car with Felicity. The five minutes had stretched into fifteen, and they didn’t budge until Felicity’s friend Lydia showed up beside the car and knocked on the window.

            “Penny is two minutes from booting you from the wedding party,” Lydia had warned Felicity lightly. “I personally think that’s a threat to test, but I know you’re the more risk-averse of the two of us.” Lydia had shot him a quick grin and said, “Hello there, Oliver.”

            “Hello Lydia.”

            Felicity had not wanted to test the bride-to-be, and reluctantly pulled herself from the car. It struck Oliver that he could have spent another five minutes or five hours with her in that car. Time seemed to not exist as they talked about nothing and everything at the same time. He’d never been much for words with women – often resorting to other means of entertainment – but he found with Felicity that it was her words with which he couldn’t get enough. She was beautiful and beguiling, but when he thought of her his thoughts usually drifted more toward some joke she’d made during their last conversations than the cut of her dress or the curve of her bottom. Not that those didn’t serve her well, because they absolutely did. They just didn’t seem as important. She’d ended up being one of the most remarkable women he’d met in his short time on this Earth, and somehow, she’d fallen in love with what had to be one of the most unremarkable men.

            Brian was about as interesting as scrambled eggs. And, for the record, Oliver didn’t find scrambled eggs particularly interesting. Oliver knew who he was the moment he and Felicity walked into the room. Brian was standing with his groomsmen, and he became immediately distracted once Felicity entered the room. Brian had looked up, eyes alert and searching, and then he found her. Felicity had immediately tensed beside him. He could practically feel the unresolved sexual tension emanating from her, and he’d immediately bristled. This guy wasn’t worth it. He was wearing an ill-fitting suit and didn’t even have the courtesy to fully tighten the knot of his tie, yet Felicity had been looking at him like he was the answer to her every prayer.

            “I should go say hi to everyone,” Felicity had mumbled, and then she was off, drawn to the guy like a moth to a very much engaged flame.

            “This is not going to end well,” Lydia had murmured to him, watching Felicity make a beeline for Brian.

            “No. I don’t think it will.”

            Lydia had skirted off to the wedding party and he settled in the last row of spectator seats, hoping to not draw too much attention.   Felicity walked away from the groomsman, and caught his gaze. Her cheeks immediately flushed, and he wondered why. Was it shame at him catching her drawn to her ex again? Shame at herself for being unable to not be drawn? He gave her a small wave, hoping to communicate through that small gesture that he didn’t judge her. He’d done too many questionable things in his life to judge anyone, especially her. Brian walked over and palmed her shoulder, nodding his head toward the front. She nodded and turned away. Oliver felt some emotion settle as he watched them walk toward the alter, although he couldn’t quite name it.

 

* * *

 

 

            Thirty minutes later the bridal party plus Oliver were all settled around an intimate table at the country club’s bustling restaurant. Penny was several drinks in and leaned heavily on Brian, drink in her hand extended forward as she sang out, “I am so blessed to have you in my life! Each and everyone of you!” She turned toward Brian and laid a hand on his cheek. “Especially you, my love. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m happy I did it. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You are my love, my life, my everything.   I am the luckiest girl in the world to be able to call you mine.”

            “Anyone else find this as nauseating as me?” Lydia asked Felicity in a low voice.

            Felicity didn’t answer, choosing to take a large gulp of her wine instead. She’d had every intention of ignoring Brian when she went into that room, but then he looked at her and every plan she had went away. It was like she couldn’t help herself. He was there, and no one else mattered. She hated herself for being so easily swayed, particularly days before his wedding. He hadn’t chosen her. Regardless of what his looks told her, he was marrying Penny and not her. Felicity’s mind understood that, if only her heart would follow.

            Oliver cleared his throat next to her, and she was surprised when he said, “I know I’m a bit of the odd man out here, but congratulations to both of you. I have to admit, I wasn’t much of a marrying man before I met Felicity. But then she changed that.”

            Felicity leaned in toward him and whispered, “Uh, Oliver, what are you doing?”  

            “All of this impending matrimony has made me nostalgic,” Oliver returned. He didn’t like the way Brian was looking at Felicity with his fiancée right next to him, and her husband – albeit a fake one, but he didn’t know that – next to her. “I didn’t know it at the time, but she changed everything for me. Everything I thought I knew. Everything I thought I wanted.” Oliver locked eyes with Brian. “She is the most remarkable woman I’ve ever encountered, and I knew the moment that I met her that I would never let anything – or anyone – cause her pain.” Oliver paused for a moment before raising his glass. “I can see that same love between you both. Congratulations, and I wish you nothing but the best.”

            Penny, the significance entirely lost on her, leaned forward and enthused, “Oliver, you are too sweet. Felicity, your husband is absolutely the sweetest. Thank you, darling.”

            Brian’s shoulders were tense, but he slid his arm around Penny and pulled her against him, dropping a kiss onto her temple. “He’s right, babe. Um…what he said…me too.”

            Penny covered his arm with hers, drunkenly basking in his tepid affection. Felicity rose shakily from the table and murmured, “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

            She didn’t know what to make of Oliver’s little declaration, or of the way Brian’s eyes had flashed and his hands shook. She shouldn’t care, because Brian was marrying one of her oldest friends and they ended a long time ago, but that didn’t change the confusion she felt. Both toward him and Oliver.

            “Felicity!”

            She quickened her pace, the bathroom in sight, but then Oliver’s hand closed on her arm and he pulled her back.

            “Felicity, wait,” he said.

            “What the hell was that back there?” she demanded. “Need I remind you that we both were tanked when we met? It hardly was one for the books like you were describing back there.”

            “Perhaps I stretched the truth a bit there.”

            “You think?”

            “But everything I said was still true,” he urged. “You _are_ remarkable. You are every bit as wonderful as you don’t believe you are, and he’s-“

            “He’s what?” she threw back.

            “He’s an ass hole, for starters. He’s stringing you along. All those loaded looks during the rehearsal and then at dinner. He knows what he’s doing, Felicity. That’s what pissed me off the most. He knows what he’s doing and what it does to you, and yet he still does it.”

            Felicity shook her head, feeling her stomach curl uncomfortably. He was saying all the things that haunted her at night. Voicing all the concerns and difficult truths that she knew, but still couldn’t quite face. And, because of that, she lashed out. Because the only other alternative was to face the truth of what he said, and that hurt too much.

“Why do you care? This isn’t any of your business. You do realize we aren’t actually married, right?”

“Of course I do,” he returned in a low voice.

“We are nothing but a technicality, Oliver. You aren’t my husband. I’m not your wife. We are nothing to each other.”

“I care about you,” he returned levelly. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

            “I’m not yours to keep from being hurt!” she threw back. “I’m not yours to care about or not care about. I am nothing to you. The only reason we ever happened that night was because I was too drunk on champagne. That’s why we happened, Oliver. It was the champagne, nothing else. All of this –“ she waved her hand between them, “ – is just until we can erase that mistake. So, please, don’t make it more than it is.”

            Something in his face shifted and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry for overstepping. I’ll just…I’ll go back to the table and stick to pleasantries. Those should be safe enough.”

            She nodded, feeling shame spread through her body. She shouldn’t have spoken to him like that, not when he was in the right. But she’d gone too far now to turn back. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

            “I’ll see you back there.”

            She turned back toward the restrooms and walked in, heading straight for a stall. She closed the door behind her and leaned her forehead against the door, eyes squeezed shut. He was right. Everything he said was right, and she was horrible to him. She didn’t have the right to take out what Brian did to her on him. He didn’t deserve that.

            She stepped out of the stall and washed her hands, scrubbing hard as she tried to scour away the shame from her words. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she murmured, “Be better than this.”

            She walked back out to the table and settled next to Oliver. He didn’t look at her, suddenly finding the square of burrata crostini on his plate immensely interesting. She reached beneath the table and took his hand in hers. With her other hand, she turned his face toward hers and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Against his skin she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

            She stayed there for a moment, breathing in his scent. He squeezed her hand beneath the table and she pulled away, cheeks flushing when she realized the table’s attention had turned to them.

            “Sorry, we were having a married moment,” she said sheepishly.

            “Those look nice,” Penny murmured, her voice somewhat melancholy.

            Felicity took a deep breath and said, “You’ll be having them soon enough, Pen. It’s going to be a beautiful wedding for a beautiful union.”

            “It is going to be a beautiful wedding,” Penny returned dreamily. She looked over at Brian and murmured, “Two days until our forever, babe.”

            Brian kissed her softly. “I can’t wait.”

            Oliver slid his arm around her shoulders, and somehow it hurt less. She reached up and took his hand, threading her fingers through his.


End file.
